One year when I was young, my uncle was having dinner with us around Christmas (I figure it was around Christmas because there was a nutcracker on the table, but I suppose it's possible it was there just because we were having walnuts).
Anyway, he asked me to pass it to him (I can still remember where we were sitting), and he told me to put my finger in the nutcracker. I did for some reason, and he started squeezing. It hurt so bad I couldn't tell him to stop, so he kept squeezing. Finally, someone, maybe his friend, pointed out I was crying, and he stopped.
I am reminded of this incident not infrequently because the story is part of the lore of my family, much like how my little sister took a big drink of red vinegar (the same uncle was involved in that, too; he was awesome).
It has also been on my mind because I sometimes back up and my arm catches on whatever I am backing past, but I can't stop fast enough, then it hurts so bad I can't call for help.
Sometimes, my arm gets trapped so I can't stop at all. I'm back at the dinner table, but no one is around to see my tears.
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